Message and Mantle
by Hylander McLeod
Summary: AU, post NFA. Part of a compilation- Story One. Connor delivers a parcel


Disclaimer- Buffy Summers and Angel are both property of Joss Whedon.

Note- single quote represents thought. Double quote represents conversation.

* * *

"I'm looking for Buffy Summers."

Thirteen months had been long enough. For Xander Harris it had been. Enough to get used to the weather of Scotland, the thick soup-like fog, which descended from the heavens, enveloping the night atmosphere in veil, so dank, you could not see your hand in front of your face. With blanket of mist, combining with night shadows, ever present on practically every night, moving outdoors without aid of flashlight guaranteed at least one false move.

Yes, Harris had become accustomed to expect such weather conditions.

He did not become accustomed to receiving unannounced strangers, no matter what the type, especially those asking for Buffy.

The man, about his age perhaps, was clearly American; there was no doubt to it. His clothing, if not his accent, or rather lack of it, said that much: a Calvin Klein jacket, Denim Levis, and what looked like Timberland Boots.

"Just what do you want with Buffy?" He questioned. "Don't try to bluff you're a slayer, you not the type for it. And I know you weren't sent by anyone or we'd be informed." No one outside their group knew of this location, or any other. Whoever this person was, there was no way he could be trusted, this easily. Especially given what he knew. Should he expect a fight, he did not know, but he braced himself nonetheless.

Xander Harris was irritated.

Connor Reilly, for his part, was simply annoyed. The utter arrogance and tough guy routine, was all too familiar for him: whether on the run down streets of LA, or the suburbs of Palo Alto. He could tell right away he did not like this person, despite not having met him earlier. The man was slightly taller than him, about 2 or 3 inches, with dark brown hair. A patch covered his left eye. He had a strange feeling it wasn't a fashion statement.

Still the man's attitude was what he'd expected. Thanks to the information provided at least.

He'd hoped to settle his business and return to the States but this one's presence had made that impossible.

Connor knew if he continued to hesitate it would be a long standoff. So much for a quick trip.

Summer Break had just started back home allow him to make of the time. He did not say much to or Laurence or Colleen Reilly, his parents as they had believed themselves to be, but did say it was of importance.

For some reason or other Angel had left deeds undone, and bequeathed him to do in his place.

Arriving in Rio was simple enough. Finding the one to search for, that was a different matter. He had first considered checking with the American consulate or agencies before mentally kicking himself for such stupid actions. The people he searched for were to no doubt leave no traces of their existence. None that could be tracked by conventional means at least. No doubt a needle in a haystack.

His restored memories, knowing who and what the girl looked like, was the one reason he had finally done so. That and his fortune for taking Portuguese over Spanish in high school. Mingling with local nightlife would be impossible otherwise.

It had taken some time, almost a month, but he'd tracked down the girl, the one with the name of a tree. She hadn't known him; he wasn't surprised, after all the deal Angel made had wiped out the memories of his relation to the vampire from all but Angel himself. To her, he was no but a stranger.

Not wanting to bother with long a long line of questions he'd introduced himself and reminded her of their mutual acquaintance. He'd not told her of the specifics, pretending to be just as clueless as why Angel chose him for this, as he himself called it, favor. That's the first time things had got headed.

She was with a companion and it took numerous words, on both their parts to keep it the entire encounter, more or less, civilized. It was also one the times he really hated his supernatural abilities. The way the two acted together, it reminded him of California's more radical community.

Nonetheless he had his answer. Scotland.

The booked the next flight, spending the day in his hotel leaving only for dinner, next evening. The remainder of the time was spent with his thoughts, questions to which he found no answers. Though he'd learned more about his estranged biological father, the knowledge did not help him the slightest, and did nothing to ease his mind of vampire's fate. During the time he'd stayed at the Hyperion, he hadn't seen hide or hair of these people. Not once did they grace the group with their presence. Not that Angel spoke of them either. What could have happened to drive them apart?

The thoughts had not left his mind, and it was only when he'd arrived at his destination, when he'd seen the castle door open, and the dark haired man emerge, did he silence them.

Keeping a poker face was crucial. No one must know.

Nonetheless, it was a daunting task, linking faces of those he had never met to the names he had come across only through his father's journals.

'Funny' he thought 'Dad said nothing about an eye patch.'

How had it come to this?

Only two months ago things had been so much simpler. It had been another normal day at Stanford, as normal as it can be for a child of two vampires and two sets of memories, the second artificially planted to save his sanity and give him a chance at a normal life. Getting up in the morning, grabbing his books, breakfast in college cafeteria, going to his classes, and so forth. It was when he returned, opening the door to his dorm room, things became _abnormal_. Or perhaps _abnormal _for Connor Reilly. His roommate, a lacrosse jock named Dean, upon greeting him, informed him of package he received via mail. It wasn't the wrapping that had made it abnormal after all what could be mysterious about something shipped by Federal Express. No, it was the contents, of it, two letters, one sealed, one folded and a large leather book, with Celtic engravings.

Dean had already left for practice, a good thing because once he opened the book's cover he knew it was something to be shared with only himself.

Angel. The Vampire running Wolfram and Hart, and as Connor now knew his true biological father, the same father he had sunk to the depths of the Pacific, and he had alienated so much, the vampire ended up making a devil's deal for his son's own sanity.

Last he remembered they had both against an immensely, strong man, Marcus Hamilton, in the lobby of Wolfram and hart's Los Angeles office. Despite Connor's own supernatural powers, the man, far too powerful to be human, had bested him, knocking him out cold for several minutes. When he had come to Angel was standing before him, the adversary defeated, a hand stretched out to help him up.

That was the day they had parted, Angel telling him to go home.

Why would Angel resurface into his life now?

The vampire had not contacted him through any means, though he didn't see it surprising. He knew from his original memories Angel wasn't a people person. Socializing had presented a problem for and not just because of vampire nature. Still the arrival of the package sparked his curiosity.

'Okay. Let's what dear old dad has to say this time.'

It took him 3 weeks to finish the journal. By then finals had started, and he'd once again buried himself in his studies.

But exams had long since been over and the numerous pages he'd read had led him here, facing one of Angel's _old friends._

"You're Harris aren't you?"

The older man did not move "What about it." He retorted. "How did you find this place?"

Connor looked at the man's posture. He had taken a defensive position, though his arms remained at his sides. He sighed softly. 'Dad was right.'

"I spoke to Willow Rosenberg in Rio. She told me Buffy's most likely be here"

Harris felt a chill pass through his body. Whoever this person was, he knew too much. More than anyone outside their circle should know. Whoever he was, he was hiding something, that much was certain. Mentally he debated about calling the slayers or not. He was no longer the useless third wheel during his high school days. Maybe he could force some truth out of this intruder. Still better not be baited, but to let him take the bait.

"No more games. What do you want with Buffy?"

Connor clenched his fists. This guy was just itching for a beating, and the man's attitude towards Angel made him the more deserving of it. Still he was here with a purpose. And this confrontation was not the source of it. Throwing fists would no doubt raise suspicion and attract their attention towards him.

Reaching into the folds of his jacket, he produced the plain white envelope and held it out towards the other.

"See that she gets this."

Xander blinked. All this for a letter? From Whom? He was about to ask more but the man had already vanished, even his silhouette absorbed by the night fog.

Shrugging, he turned and re-entered the castle. He'd call Willow tomorrow. Maybe she'd know more.

The sun was at its peak the next afternoon. Connor Reilly sat in his first class seat, on a nonstop flight bound for Los Angeles. Lunch was now being served and as the flight attendant came by with the cart, he put aside the journal.

He'd write up his withdrawal from Stanford tomorrow. College was menial now.

He had a job to do.

* * *

Well there it is. My First Buffy fic. Was planning this for a while now but it's really hard to write. Story one is now complete. As for what Connor is thinking at the end, and what was inside the letter- well learn that I story two.


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